


Bilbo is 'dying'

by SarcasticSmiler



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8452072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarcasticSmiler/pseuds/SarcasticSmiler
Summary: Bilbo is sick, Thorin is there to comfort him





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have a cold, I hate colds. I wanted to indulge in some self-pity because of the cold, so this happened.

Bilbo was dying, he was sure of it.

His head was pounding.

He couldn’t breathe.

His eyes couldn’t tolerate any kind of light.

His body couldn’t decide if it was hot or cold.

And the absolute _worst_ part of it all was that every time he swallowed it felt like he had the combined collections of Fíli and Nori’s knives stored in his throat.

He couldn’t eat.

He could _barely_ drink tea.

He was _dying_.

Not that his utterly insufferable husband believed him.

“It’s dot fuddy,” he grumbled from his cocoon of Shire quilts and Dwarven furs.

“It’s a little funny,” Thorin chuckled, not at all affected by Bilbo’s disgruntled glare, especially not when it was accompanied by his thoroughly dishevelled curls and a bright red nose.

“I hade you.”

“No you don’t,” bending down, Thorin kissed Bilbo’s hot forehead. “Get some sleep, and after my meeting I’ll bring you back some of Bombur’s mushroom soup.”

“I wad cuddles doo,” Bilbo pouted, apparently dying made him clingier than usual.

“Whatever you want, love,” Thorin agreed, gently sweeping stray, sweaty curls from his eyes. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

-x-

Three hours later Bilbo huffed and coughed as he was gently shaken into the waking world.

“How d’you feel, love?” Thorin asked, smiling softly at his sleepy hobbit.

“Dying,” Bilbo groaned, not wanting to open his eyes.

“Come on, sit up. I’ve brought Bombur’s soup,” Thorin cajoled.

With effort and a fair few grumbles, Bilbo managed to prop himself up enough to surrender himself to the indignity of being spoon fed by Thorin. Wincing at every swallow, he still lamented the fact that he couldn’t actually _taste_ what was probably a delicious soup.

Once Thorin was satisfied that he’d actually eaten enough, he pressed a bristly kiss to Bilbo's still overly warm forehead.

“Now I believe cuddles were demanded?” he said, cupping Bilbo's cheek to run his thumb over the soft, flushed skin.

“Yes,” Bilbo nodded, tugging feebly at Thorin’s tunic to get him closer.

He felt weak and pathetic, and he was _dying_ , the least he could get were cuddles.

“Alright then, my love,” Thorin smiled, tugging off his tunic and trousers, he kicked aside his boots before crawling under the covers and pulling his rumpled Bilbo against him. “Is that better?”

Bilbo murmured his agreement, sleep already calling him again as he snuggled into Thorin. Relishing the strong arms wrapped around him, and the warm furry chest against his hot cheek.

“Love you,” he breathed, pressing a soft kiss over Thorin’s heartbeat before succumbing to sleep.

“Love you too,” Thorin answered, kissing Bilbo's curls, glad he could be there for his Bilbo when he was laid low with such a miserable cold.


End file.
